Some people should never get drunk Period
by kripnatic
Summary: My version of the prompt I gave to Indigo :Drunk Quinn blurting out his feelings about Carrie. Enjoy and reviews are welcome. T for swearing.


**Hi guys. I gave the drunk Quinn prompt to the awesome Indigo, she wrote it and then all of you awesome writers out there wrote it and I have to say I enjoyed every story. We need to expand the Homeland FF base more. **

**Since I gave the prompt and Indigo asked me also to write it I wrote it. It's a bit long. Hopefully its good. Enjoy . Reviews are my life so chip in a review.**

Today was a bad day, the worst to say. Things weren't going as planned for Quinn and he hated that. He had an agenda and it was do whatever work you have and get the fuck out. 

Today nothing was happening like that. He got shot by an ass wipe while protecting Carrie. It was not a brave move but a stupid one because Carrie never listens to anyone. 

"Oh my god Quinn!?" She came running as he crawled back behind a car. Pain seeped through his body and he was about to scream but refrained from it. "It's ok Carrie." Quinn hissed through gritted teeth as she tried to see the damage. 

"No it's not Quinn. What's wrong with you? We need to go to the hospital now." She yelled frantically. Her eyebrows were arched to the highest point. 

"No, we have to find the other target before he gets away." Quinn said, throwing his head back. 

"Are you fucking with me. The injury is so bad." Blood was trickling out of his pants. Along with most of his pant stained. 

"You need back up Carrie." 

"Fuck you Quinn." Carrie lashed out and dialled for an ambulance. The doctors had taken the bullet and neatly stitched the wound. 

It was an hour later Quinn had woken up and he saw Carrie was still there waiting for him. "Wha are you doin?" He asked sleep dissipating throughout his body which made him close his eyes. 

"You were shot. You think I wouldn't stay? " Carrie shrugged. Quinn tried to sit up but he slouched back down in pain. "My body hurts." He complained sorely. 

"You take rest. I have to go. Saul called me and told me about our other target we missed. I'll take him down, you can stay at home for at least a few days." Carrie explained knowing there would be a huge backlash next. 

"What? No way, not with out me Carrie." Quinn argued back trying to sit up again which wasn't really helping. Carrie came to help him but her hand was pushed away. 

"I can get up on my own Carrie." Quinn growled at him. "Since you're so damn stubborn I'll drop you home." She said coolly, sliding her hands inside her pockets near his bed. 

"Fuck you, Carrie. I can't sit this one out." He was yelling desperately. "Oh hell you are, I'm dropping you home. Move it." She swiftly acted and took his arms and helped him stand up. He wasn't  
wearing his dress so Carrie had to help him into his pants and shirt. 

It was the same pant. 

Thank god he was wearing boxers Carrie thought. She dropped him home. Quinn was contemplating on yelling at her but he bit back not to. He was a bit heavy than Carrie had expected as she took him  
inside, one hand over her shoulder. She settled him onto the couch. 

His leg was in a cast. 

"I'll be back to check on you tonight. Do you have crutches?" Carrie asked looking around at his place which was too small and really shitty. 

"No Carrie. You're making a big mistake by not letting me come." Quinn threatened her. She rolled her eyes at him and gave him one last look before leaving.

"FUCK, FUCK THIS." He yelled all alone. Quinn got up next and limped to his kitchen and started swiping things of the counter. Everything clattered down. All the cutlery he could find was thrown out. 

He rummaged through every cupboard till he found what he wanted. Mid way lots of forks and spoons clinked on the floor. Quinn struck gold with Two bottles of Jack Daniel's whiskey. He knew  
they wouldn't call him for any job for a week. So why not get drunk he thought. And it was a stupid thing to do. 

He found a shot glass as he leaned on the counter with his leg giving into the pressure he knew he was going to fall. He took one bottle and the shot glass in another and limped to the sofa and fell in the cushions. Setting the booze on the table he opened it up and poured it into his shot glass and gulped it down.

It felt good as the fiery liquid drowned into his body deeper and deeper. He could feel the pain in his leg ease just a tiny bit. So he took another shot and it felt more bitter but better than the first shot. His tongue could get used to the taste. 

Every shot he had made the pain better and before he knew it he had downed the bottle except few drops that remained in the end. His vision was blurry and his brains felt like alcohol. He was sprawled on the couch with his injured leg up and his good leg hanging down. Peter Quinn never gets drunk.

He was stinking of alcohol and he had taken his pants off and was now with his green button down shirt and his boxers. He wanted to think of something that was tugging at his mind. He saw the clock and he could make out the time as 6:30. 

Carrie it was all because of her. He knew he cared for her to much to let her get hurt. She had been a bitch to him but he never stopped caring for her. They had a mutual respect irrespective of the cause  
and he knew it would ruin a relationship if he fell for her but he had. Thinking about her made him want to drink more so he opened up the second bottle too.

"Quinn what the fuck are you doing?" Carrie screamed at Quinn when she opened the door to his house. He forgot to even lock it.

He looked up at her. "Get out Carrie. This is my property. Get outtttt." He yelled his head swaying from side to side.

"Why the fuck would I get out? How are you feeling?" Carrie asked. Feeling concerned for him after all he did save her life.

"Feelin'? How I'm feelin'? Why do you care how I feel?" Quinn closed his eyes as his words slurred.

"All you care about is Brody and here I am tryn' to save your lif'." Carrie was not sure they were on the same topic.

"What are you saying Quinn? You're drunk." She reasoned.

"When have you ever understood me? About how I really feel about you?" This was dangerous territory but it didn't stop him at all.

"How you feel about me? Quinn stop this. Let me get you to bed." She offered, but Quinn didn't seem like getting up just yet.

"I care abo't you Carrie. I always you never get me. I was so worried when Javadi took you. I searched everywhere for you. When I shot you, I almos' had a heart attack that I had injured you. Oh.. oh and when I came to see you at the hospital? You thought Saul, fucking Saul sent me. I mean c'mon how cheap are you Carrie? I came for you, for fucking Carrie Mathison. And here she is still treating me lik' a bag of shiiit." Quinn spilt out drawing his body near the table to open the second bottle and filling his shot glass and took the shot.

Carrie stood still not knowing what to do. She was sure that people don't just say stuff when they're drunk and somewhere inside she didn't want to believe it.

"Quinn I'm sorry you feel this way. I never really knew you felt like this." She said softly.

He waved his hand and took another shot.

"Julia, my child and now you. Everyone hates me when I try to be a good person cus' I never was like this before." Quinn remembered and spoke.

Before he could take another drink Carrie grabbed the glass from his hand and threw it. The glass shattered to pieces. She felt sorry for him, for the first time. She could see he really meant what he said.

"GIVE IT TO ME CARRIE." Quinn roared and stumbled. Before he could fall down Carrie heaved him up.

"No I won't." Carrie was stubborn. Now his head was lying low and he didn't show any restrain as Carrie pulled him over to his bed.

"I care about you to Quinn." She smiled and told him as he lay on the bed. Carrie put her hand on his cheek. He took her hand in his. "I'm sorry Carrie. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He put on his boyish grin. Carrie pushed back his more than usual spiky hair back.

"I know." Carrie took his bed sheet and put it over him. He finally closed his eyes 10 minutes later.

*NEXT MORNING*

When he woke up his head was paining like fuck and he felt delirious. There was something going on in the kitchen and he was alert. He squabbled around his bed to find his gun but couldn't. When he got up he fell down immediately. The pain in his leg shot up 50 times more.

"Fuck!" He yelped and limped up and got to the kitchen to see Carrie there.

"Holy shit Carrie, what are you doing?" He was part sure there were two Carrie's standing.

"I'm making coffee Quinn. You might wanna get dressed. You look fucked." Carrie commented looking at how crappy he looked.

Quinn looked down at himself and felt like vomiting. He remembered bits of yesterday. "Yea, I do look bad." Carrie nodded.

"About last night. Did I say something wrong because I don't remember anything much." Quinn tried to smoothen his hair which just didn't settle down.

Carrie just looked at Quinn and shook her head. "No. You didn't say anything wrong Quinn."


End file.
